


Bad Boy

by FriskySalmon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Demon Dean Winchester, Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Teasing, Top Dean, first non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-19 13:30:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2390063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FriskySalmon/pseuds/FriskySalmon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel could not believe Dean had really turned into a demon until he saw it with his own eyes. Was this really the Dean he had loved and cared and protected?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Boy

**Author's Note:**

> I got this idea from listening to the song Bad Boy by Cascada, it actually doesn’t have much to do with the song at all but the words Bad Boy got me thinking. I wanted to explore a bit of Demon!Dean before they took him away. The story ran away with me and became NONCON(non-consent), so please do not read it if NONCON bothers you. 
> 
> The story takes place in the void between seasons 9 and 10.
> 
> Also this is how I've interpreted demon!Dean based on what we've seen in promos and how Jensen has described him, please don't hate me!

Hannah sighed one last time as she turned to look at her companion, sitting in the passenger seat of her silver sedan.

“You won’t like what you see Castiel,” She tried one last time. “This is not the Dean you know, and in your current state...It’s too dangerous.” 

“Thanks Hannah for all your help,” Castiel replied absentmindedly, his finger idly tracing a piece of folded paper. Carefully he unfolded it and checked the neat rows of lettering one last time, spelling out an address in Hannah’s handwriting. 

Slowly Castiel looked up, his eyes locking onto Hannah’s. “I must do this, I have to see for myself. Thank you for getting me the intel and driving me here, now leave and...be safe Sister.”

Without a backwards glance Castiel pushed open the door and stepped out into the cool evening air. His legs shook and he took a second to steady himself against the solid body of the car. He could feel Hannah’s gaze on his back as he made his way to the stairs that would lead him to the right room number. To the room where his lover supposedly stayed at. 

To the lover he thought was dead. 

Castiel approached the door on silent feet, but just as he raised a hand to knock, the door swung open and a beautiful redhead, dressed in so little one could barely call it clothing, stepped into the doorway. Her laughter still hung in the air as her expression changed upon seeing the strange man standing outside. 

“I-Is Dean Winchester here?” Castiel cleared his throat, trying to mask the shock in his voice. 

“...Yeah. Well, I was just on my way out,” the redhead smiled at Castiel with practised ease as she turned around and yelled into the room. “Looks like you’ve got a visitor. Call me.” 

Castiel waited until he could barely hear the clicking of her heels down the hall before stepping into the room. The mixed scent of whiskey and gun oil hit Cas and the familiar smell made his stomach knot up and his head spin; it was a scent he knew well, it was Dean’s scent. 

“Well well…look what the cat dragged in,” Dean’s voice was soft and low, his words flowing in a sing song sway. Cas could only stare as the door closed behind him, apparently pulled shut by invisible hands. 

There he was, Dean, bare chested, jeans unbuttoned, sitting on the side of the queen sized bed sipping from a glass of amber liquid. He looked exactly as Cas remembered, tall, lean, muscles rippling, but there was something about him, the way he looked at Cas, that made the angel take several steps backwards until his back hit the flimsy door of the motel room. 

“Dean, is that really you?” Cas whispered, and as much as he hated himself for doing it, he let the angel blade slide from the sleeve of his coat to rest cold in his hand. 

“It’s me Cas,” Dean grinned his roguish smile and put his glass down on the nightstand. 

“How are you here? I thought...Metatron had…” Cas couldn’t bring himself to say it, because saying it would mean he acknowledged the fact that Dean was dead. 

“Well here I am Cas! And feeling better than ever. Though one could not say the same for you.” 

There was something in Dean’s voice that caused the hairs on the back of Cas’ neck to rise in alarm, and he gripped his blade that much tighter. “What are you Dean? Are...the rumours true?” 

At the blink of an eye Dean crossed the room and stood in front of Cas. What little distance they did have between them was swallowed by Dean’s long legs as he pressed himself against the angel. Cas stood frozen as his breath hitched in his suddenly parched throat. Dean was so close, he wanted to touch him, to make sure he was real. He wanted to taste him, and show him just how much he’d missed Dean’s touch.

But he couldn’t do any of those things as his body stood frozen between Dean’s hard chest and the door. When did he become so weak? Was his condition really so bad that he couldn’t even resist the pull of this…

“Demon, Dean? You’ve really become a demon then?” 

Dean looked at Cas, his lips pulling into a cruel smile as he blinked. Eyes as black as the pits of Hell stared back at Cas for a split second, before blazing emerald orbs replaced them once more. “Does that answer your question?” 

Cas was silent as emotions played themselves across his face. Horror, sadness, anger all mixed with his immense love for the man standing in front of him. Cas felt tears well in his eyes, and only half heard the scream that ripped itself from his throat as he shoved Dean away from him. The angel blade swept up in a dangerous arc that forced Dean to jump back, putting a little distance between them once more. 

“C’mon, do you really think you can kill me?” Dean snarled, though the smile never left his lips. “Your stolen Grace is burning out isn’t it. What are you without your angel mojo Cas?” 

Dean straightened out and stretched lazily, his every move mocking Cas as the angel struggled to hold back his tears. Without thinking Cas dashed forward to lay his out stretched palm against Dean’s forehead. “If this is what you’ve become Dean, then I shall smite you down.” 

“Oh yeah?” Dean stared at Cas, his expression unchanging, his smile, once so beautiful, was twisted with malice. “Smite me then great Castiel, the angel that played God.” 

He had wanted to do it, he really did, but he couldn’t bring himself to rip the life out of Dean, not so soon after finding out that he was alive. Cas stood still for a moment too long and cursed out loud when Dean grabbed the blade from his hand and jumped back out of his arm’s reach. Defenceless, Cas let his hand drop to his side in resignation and bowed his head. 

“You are correct. I cannot kill you Dean, and my Grace is burning out. Why not just deliver the inevitable and finish me now then?” 

“Because that would be too easy.” Before Cas could register Dean’s words, pain like white hot fire exploded in his head, and the floor rose up to meet him before the world blacked out. 

===

The first thing to come into focus was the bed with it’s messy sheets, blurry at first then becoming a bit clearer as Cas shook his head slightly. Hearing was the second thing to come back to him, and Cas could hear the sound of running water through the open doorway of the bathroom. He looked around him, trying to remember what had happened when he realised his arms were tied behind him securely and his feet were bound to each chair leg separately. He tried pulling against the ropes, but without his feet to anchor him he nearly lost his balance. 

The sound of water had stopped and Cas looked on helplessly as a naked and dripping Dean stepped out of the shower. Cas knew Dean had left the door open on purpose, after all Dean knew all of Cas’ buttons, demon or not. 

Dean watched Cas out of the corner of his eyes, always making sure he was moving and twisting in the right direction. He could see the colour drain from Cas’ face, then the rosy glow that never failed to tint Cas’ fair skin when he became embarrassed and aroused. Dean remembered every last moment he’d shared with the angel, but the tenderness was gone from those memories, replaced by a raw need and lust. He had wanted to track Cas down earlier and have another taste of angel cake in this new state of mind, but the redhead had been too tantalizing to pass up. 

Now his little angel had all but delivered himself to Dean, there were things to be done. Dean moved around the tiny room completely naked, poured himself a drink, then sat down on the bed facing Cas, his manhood in full view and fully erect. 

“Good morning sleeping beauty.”

“...”

“What, cat got your tongue? C’mon Cas, it’s me, I know what this is doing to you,” Dean smirked and leaned back on the bed as he wrapped long fingers around his own arousal. He could see the frown deepen between Cas’ brows and let out an exaggerated moan as he began to stroke himself. 

Cas tried struggling against his bonds once more even as his eyes glued themselves to the image of Dean. In the one hand he still held his glass of whiskey, but his other hand held something Cas had enjoyed on countless occasions, and missed now even in his currently state. Cas shut his eyes and forced himself to look away, but the sweet moans coming from his former lover made him shiver with need. He could feel his pants growing tighter and his breathing becoming more and more shallow until he couldn’t look away any longer. 

“Dean...don’t,” Cas croaked. Cas didn’t want this, didn’t want his memories to be sullied by this creature that Dean had become. Dean gave himself one last stroke before sitting up, his whiskey glass forgotten.

“You are not exactly in a position to make demands,” Dean purred softly and reached behind him until he found the angel blade on the bed. He sauntered over to his captive and ran the tip of the blade across his jaw and down his neck to rest next to the first button of his shirt. “We’re going to play Cas, just you and me, like the good old times. You still love me don’t you?” 

Cas said nothing and looked away. Dean didn’t care, instead he applied pressure on the blade until the tip cut into Cas’ shirt and broke skin. A tiny red dot of blood soaked through the white fabric and Dean’s smile grew wider. Wordlessly Dean dragged the blade down inch by agonizing inch until Cas’ shirt sat open, his chest bare and covered in a thin trickle of blood. 

“I was always so afraid of hurting you Cas, but you look good in red.” Dean threw the angel blade across the room and pushed Cas’ shirt open the rest of the way, exposing taut skin over tense muscles. “Relax, you’ll like this, you always do.” 

Cas had wanted to say something then, but all words were cut off when Dean suddenly leaned in and crushed his lips into Cas’. Cas struggled, his cries muffled as Dean deepened the kiss. There was nothing tender in the gesture, only Dean’s hungry need to dominate and Cas’ feeble attempt to stop him. But this was Dean, and his tongue tasted the same, his lips felt the same, and Cas could not deny the feelings welling up inside himself as he reluctantly returned the kiss with equal passion. 

Dean bit into Cas’ lip, drawing blood, but Cas did not care, all that mattered was that Dean was kissing him again, that Dean was alive and warm and his breath hot and heavy as he assaulted Cas’ mouth. Dean pulled back as oxygen demanded his attention, and he smirked knowingly as he gazed down into Cas’ glazed eyes. 

“See, you still want this, you still want me.” Dean snapped his fingers and the ropes binding Cas’ ankles fell away. Effortlessly Dean pulled Cas out of the chair and threw him onto the bed face first before jumping on top of the angel, his lips inches away from Cas’ ear. “I’m going to make you scream. I’m going to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before.” 

With one hand holding Cas down Dean ripped away Cas’ pants and underwear, leaving him in nothing but angry welts and a torn shirt. Dean’s words sank in then, and Cas’ struggles became more frenzied. This was not the Dean he loved, this was a monster wearing Dean’s face, a monster that was going to take away the only sacred thing that Cas had shared with Dean. 

But Cas was weak, and growing weaker by the minute. He could feel his Grace burning lower, feel his limbs give out under him as Dean pushed firmly against his back. Cas bit into his cheek and tried to stem the flow of tears as he finally accepted the truth; Dean was dead. 

Cas felt Dean shift behind him, felt the coolness of the lube as Dean spread his cheeks and massaged his tight sphincter with slick fingers. He fought the feeling of warmth spreading from his stomach, but this was still Dean’s touch, and he was powerless to resist as the familiar fingers pushed inside him. Cas hissed in pain laced pleasure but swallowed a low moan as Dean started moving his fingers in and out of him. 

Dean played with Cas, pushing and pulling his fingers in and out slowly, almost tenderly for what felt like forever. Cas buried his face into the sheets, his body trembling, betraying him even as his cock hardened from the familiar touch. Then abruptly Dean pulled away, leaving Cas empty and frustrated. With one hand he pulled Cas’ hips straight up as his other hand snaked around to find Cas’ cock hard as a rock. Dean wrapped his long slender fingers around Cas’ shaft and began pumping, smearing the pre-cum around until Cas’ cock was slick enough for a proper handjob. 

Dean continued to stroke Cas, fast then slow, faster then slower, bringing the angel inches to climax but never letting him hit it. Again and again Dean teased Cas, and with each denial Cas grew a little louder, his grunts and moans becoming a little more desperate. 

“...D-Dean, please don’t…” Cas half begged, half sobbed into the tear stained sheets, his heart telling him that he didn’t want this, yet his body moved with a mind of its own. His hips jerked violently as Dean brought him close once more, but instead of slowing down he sped up his movements. Cas felt his stomach tense up seconds before the pressure exploded, but even as his mind was reeling from the intense pleasure of his orgasm Cas screamed as Dean unceremoniously shoved himself deep inside Cas. 

“I told you I’d make you scream,” Dean hissed through gritted teeth as he held onto Cas’ hips with both hands. “Now the promised fucking.” 

Cas was thankful for the onset of his post climax numbness, for Dean held onto him firmly and dragged Cas’ hips back to meet every one of his brutal thrusts. The rhythm was fast, every thrust deep, and even with the stretching and lube Cas was not prepared for this pace and the pain that came with it. 

But it was Dean’s cock deep inside him, the familiar girth and length took no time for Cas to adjust to, and before long Cas was hard once more. He felt Dean pull on his wrists, still tied behind his back, and felt himself being dragged upright until Dean’s breath was on his neck once more. Cas’ shoulders screamed in pain, but that was nothing compared to Dean’s teeth sinking into the flesh of his neck as Dean’s orgasm rushed into the battered angel. Dean held onto Cas for a moment longer, his breath tickling the teeth marks on Cas’ neck. 

Then he simply let go and walked away.


End file.
